Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Clinking Bottles and Silent Glances
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Between the two standing side by side, the clinking of medicine bottles and tools took the place of conversation.
A night devoid of even a single ray of moonlight. Under the faint glow of a small lamp, Beth's hand cast flickering shadows that teased the space near the man, almost but not quite touching him.
Because of the bandages still wrapped around her hands, the smooth medicine bottle kept slipping from Beth's grasp. Dever silently took it from her and set it aside.
'I want to quit the meds.'
Beth's hands froze.
That one sentence—what was it doing to her?
How many times had her vow to never get involved in this man's affairs crumbled today alone? Her chest ached from her heart leaping back and forth so many times in a single day.
One glance at the medicine bottle, one at the empty air. Her gaze, hesitating as if lost in thought, finally mustered its courage and slowly rose to the man beside her.
Eyebrows protruding over sharp ridges, giving his eyes a fierce yet brooding look.
A straight nose that spoke of his straightforward personality.
Lips firmly pressed and a defined jawline, befitting the arrogant, stubborn commander of the Imperial Army.
"Not doing it?"
As if aware she was watching, he asked without lifting his eyes from the bottle. Beth's ears turned red at the dry question, and she quickly dropped her gaze. She looked just like a thief caught in the act.
Thank goodness the lamplight was red. It would hide her face, which must have flushed just as deeply.
Dever kept his eyes fixed on the white bottle being portioned out.
No chin, no nothing—a ridiculous lie.
Even to herself, it was so absurd she almost let out a hollow laugh.
To go to these lengths with such nonsense. The war was clearly wearing on him too, making everything feel filthy tedious. He didn't know her inner thoughts, and the nurse before him was too busy with her duties to notice.
The note with the instructions was held out under the round lamplight.
It was neat handwriting. Not the fancy script popular among Nexus women for letters, but precisely Beth's style.
Dever nodded roughly.
He'd never heard the woman's voice, nor would he ever need to, but if he did, he imagined it would sound just like this writing.
Beth couldn't bear this awkward silence any longer. It felt uncomfortable. This unfamiliar man was starting to feel all too familiar.
The moment she'd seen his eyes reflected in the faint lighter flame in the pharmacy, relief had washed over her—and that fact kept nagging at her heart like phlegm. It terrified her to let her guard down around a man she couldn't afford to trust.
So Beth turned away first.
Dever's head tilted slightly as he watched her walk off naturally. Just like when he'd first seen Beth Jens trembling before him with his gun in hand, a strange impulse surged again.
His actions were always faster than his thoughts.
Borrowing the cover of darkness, Dever's hand reached for the shelf without hesitation. The sudden hailstorm of falling bottles and trays made the woman startle and turn around.
"It's dark. My mistake."
For dumping an entire shelf onto the floor, his apology was remarkably curt. Dever glanced at Beth, still standing there dumbfounded, and decided to bear the trouble himself. He shoved items haphazardly into the wrong spots, as if to show off.
"This goes here, right?"
He knew full well it didn't. He'd been in and out of here more than Beth—he had to know.
But he couldn't very well say it irked him how she bolted like a patient ditching treatment.
Nor could he admit he was peeved she wouldn't come closer, even after all this chaos.
The woman let out a small sigh and returned to her spot.
Her returning footsteps, her resigned gaze—they weren't half bad.
For the first time in a long while—or maybe ever—Beth was moving at his whim.
Dever gazed down at the small head of Beth as she knelt to pick up the bottles at his feet. Everything about her was so petite.
Dever's hand moved boldly once more. This time, it was the tranquilizer bottle he'd received earlier. It slipped easily into hiding behind the others under his large palm.
The corner of Dever's mouth twitched upward. His lips tingled. He admitted it to himself: he was finding this situation rather amusing. Like teasing a little puppy.
"I'll put this one away."
By the time she'd knelt down and sorted everything, only then did he take the neatly arranged tray from her. Beth's lips puffed out in a pout as she watched him.
Watching expressions like that was amusing too.
He followed after Beth as she spun away. His mouth curved in a smile up to that point, his usually sharp eyes softening just a bit.
But the moment he glimpsed the display shelf in the dim lamplight, it all vanished in an instant.
He was a man who rarely forgot anything he'd seen once. He clearly remembered the day he'd given her the portable ointment. One slot in the tray had been empty.
Dever, who insisted on having every military matter under his thumb, wouldn't overlook the supply schedule. Medical supplies weren't due until next week—they hadn't run out, so it couldn't be empty by accident.
In the end, she'd stubbornly put the ointment back.
"Why didn't you apply it?"
Beth whipped her head around at the abrupt question. Her large eyes blinked, clearly not grasping what he meant.
The man, now right in front of her, held out the lamp.
"Hold this."
Dever grasped Beth's bandaged hand. She jolted in surprise, shoulders twitching, but he held her wrist firmly and wouldn't let go.
The more she struggled to pull away, the more the lamp shook unsteadily, and her palm began to sting.
"Stay still."
Unlike his indifferent tone, his touch unwrapping the bandage was gentle.
"So stubborn."
The loosely wrapped dressing—clearly done haphazardly by herself—quickly revealed the wound. The healing gash was leaving its final scar.
Dever's thumb gently traced the faint line etched in the center of her pale palm.
"Does it hurt?"
Beth shook her head.
With practiced ease, he opened the ointment jar one-handed. His finger, coated in the sticky salve, caressed the wound. The strange sensation of the gooey ointment and his warm body heat made her fingertips tingle.
"Doesn't this make me feel like I'm doing something bad?"
His flat tone made it impossible to tell if he was joking or serious. Either way, it didn't make sense to Beth.
With no intention of explaining himself, the man focused solely on applying the ointment.
The chilly warehouse air grew awkwardly warm. The tingling in her fingertips gave way to the thudding of her heartbeat. Just as her delicate fingers curled in embarrassment from the tremor,
"Or not?"
He tossed out the mischievous question again.
Beth clamped her gaping lips shut. He was definitely teasing her. The hooked curve of his mouth proved it.
Irritated, she tried to yank her hand free, but as if he'd anticipated it, he tightened his grip on her wrist just a fraction.
How did he even know about the fresh bandages? Without a proper pair of scissors in sight, he pulled out a roll—goodness knows from where—and his canines flashed sharply as he bit it off.
Little wolf pup.
Someone had called him that once. With his dark gray hair and eyes, and now those gleaming fangs, it suited him well enough.
"There."
Having finished, Dever headed out of the warehouse first this time.
"You coming?"
Beth, staring blankly at her newly bandaged hand, snapped to at his urging and hurried after him.
What a strange day. Like the Duchess had said, the shock must be too great—everything felt different from usual. She could even blame her own foolish, stubborn self on that.
Dever leisurely watched the woman walk obediently toward him. Beth Jens, wearing his clothes, wrapped in the bandage he'd tied.
Yeah, even the necklace.
Her usual actions felt awkward now. She'd done them fine before, but with Dever right behind her, her hands fumbled constantly as she tried to fasten the necklace.
Pathetic to the end.
Beth bit her lip, fidgeting to align the clasp somehow. Her slender white nape dipped slightly, stark even in the darkness.
"Ah."
A breath—not her own—brushed the stiff nape of her neck. Beth couldn't exhale the sharp intake of air; every sensation in her body converged there in a novel rush.
The man's hand, lightly overlapping her small one, locked the necklace with ridiculous ease.
"Let's go."
Their footsteps thudded louder than usual in the quiet night.
For the first time, their strides matched perfectly, leaving prints in the rough dirt.
At the fork splitting toward the barracks and nurses' quarters, Beth's eyes narrowed suspiciously as Dever followed her as if it were the most natural thing.
She pointed toward the barracks path. His cool gaze returned after following her gesture, making her shoulders shrink for no reason.
"You need to go to the quarters to get your clothes."
As if he were escorting her. What a bold delusion, especially while wearing his outer coat on this cold night. Beth's ears burned red again. She lost count of how many times her face had heated up today.
Dever let out a dry sigh as Beth suddenly scurried ahead, heaven knows what vexing her now. Widening his stride to catch up, he found her practically running toward the quarters.
Appeasing her was turning out to be this exhausting.
Grumbling inwardly, Dever shoved his hands into his pants pockets. It wasn't like he was going to eat her—did she have to run off like that?
Their synced steps fell apart again.
Beth had already arrived, head down fiddling with the broken dorm door handle. Spotting his boots, she thrust the jacket at him and slammed the door shut. It was a preemptive move, fearing more teasing about "bad deeds," but Dever, oblivious to her motives, stared blankly at the door now closed in his face.
Her bolting like that was exasperating, but the feeling wasn't unpleasant. Maybe because of the scent clinging to the jacket he'd received.
The faint fragrance that wafted near him every time she approached lingered even after she'd vanished.
The first day he'd seen Beth. More precisely, the day he'd mistaken her for a spy of unknown origins and gripped her slender neck.
Dever had smelled that scent before he'd even seen her face.
A flicker of light sparked in one of the pitch-black windows. Dever looked up at that sole glow in the darkness.
A small shadow darted about inside.
Probably Beth.
Soon, the light went out.
Leaning against the dorm's outer wall, he pulled out a cigar. The acrid smoke mingled chaotically with Beth's sweet scent around him.
Beth had no idea.
That he was still there, right under her bedroom window by the head of her bed.